


The Wanting Comes in Waves

by scarecrowstories



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Dissociation, Gen, Mirrors, Panic Attacks, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 18:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18834691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarecrowstories/pseuds/scarecrowstories
Summary: Taako is afraid of his own reflection, because if he stares too long, something starts to eat away at him from the inside. He doesn't recognize that face, and he doesn't know why, and it terrifies him. Who is that? And why won't his head stop spinning?





	The Wanting Comes in Waves

**Author's Note:**

> so,,,, yes,,,, it's me again. yes the title is like that song by The Decemberists, because uhh... 
> 
> Anyway, I couldn't help but notice how many of us seem to like the trope of Taako not liking his reflection, so as a mentally ill person who gets panicky if I look at my own reflection too long, I thought hey, let's Go There.

Taako stared at his reflection in the mirror, a thought on the edge of his consciousness. "You look familiar," he said aloud, hoping he could laugh it off as he casually flashed a peace sign at himself. Instead as he watched his mouth form those words, the approaching thought swelled all around him. "You remind me of someone special." But that was a ridiculous thing to think; he was himself, just an elf wizard with an unnatural fear of his own reflection. When had that even started?

He concentrated on each feature, trying to place it. Those were the same eyes, same smile, same freckles. Something about the hair, though…

Shorter, it was shorter on you, he thought, shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears. You? Who? Himself? No, he hated keeping his hair short, always had. These were simply the same features as always. He needed to maintain his brand, which meant keeping a consistent appearance.

Why was he doing this to himself? He could just continue to avoid mirrors; it wasn't as though the topic ever came up in conversation. Sometimes even passing one by accident made him panicky, his eyes darting away from his image. That's not me, he thought, heart rising in his throat. Who is that? Inexplicably, however, there were also times like this: determination rooted in his stomach like a knot, insisting he get to the bottom of this irrational fear.

He ran a hand over his cheek, poking at his chin, then his forehead. What are you? he thought, a grimace settling onto his face. He tapped the tips of his pointed ears, gently flicking at his dangling piercings, and sighed.

"You are Taako, you are an elf, you are a wizard, you are a chef, you are…" he trailed off, the words all feeling false somehow, missing some key component. "You are alone," he finished, shoulders slumping; those were the only words that felt true. Shouldn't he reach out to comfort that sad person in the mirror? His soul ached, wanting nothing more than to comfort the empty-eyed person confronting him. Why were they so sad? And why did it hurt him so badly?

"But that's me," he told himself, the ringing in his ears overwhelming him, his heart thumping hard in his chest. With every beat he could feel a far-off thought whispering, "That's not me, that's not me, that's not me."

Gripping his hair tight, Taako clenched his eyes shut, confusion and loss washing over him in waves. He could hardly breathe under the weight of it all, only vaguely aware of his knees hitting the ground. Who was that? he wondered, desperate. Where did they go?

When he opened his eyes some time later, he was lying on the floor. Where was this place? Sitting up, he looked around to get his bearings. The only furniture in the room was a single bed, a desk with a chair, and a dresser with a vanity mirror. 

Ah. Yes. The mirror.

That's right, he remembered, using the bed frame to support his efforts to stand. He was on tour, staying at an inn. Sazed had his own room, thankfully, allowing Taako's little episode to go unnoticed. What had happened, anyway? Looking down at his hands, he could see marks along his forearms where he'd dragged his fingernails repeatedly, angry red welts raised in protest to his actions.

He tossed the bedsheet over the mirror and moved the desk chair to the window, resigned to stay awake until the show moved on tomorrow afternoon. He didn't need sleep tonight anyway. 

xxxxxx

It had been going on for enough years that Taako knew when to expect it. Some days he was able to ignore the ringing in his ears when he looked in a mirror. Sometimes he could make silly faces at himself and feel a warmth in his heart, some part of his soul delighting in how casual and carefree it felt. Other days he couldn't bear the thought of even having a reflection. It was a rare occasion that he was so bad he blacked out, but it had happened a lot in the early days of his tour. He eventually gave up on makeup; no real need for a mirror at all, then.

Now, though, sharing an apartment with Magnus and Merle at the Bureau, of course there was a large mirror in their bathroom. Taako was careful to avoid catching his own eye as often as possible, just to be safe. The last thing he wanted to do was explain to them that this was just something that always happened, or at least it seemed to. When didn't it? Before the show? As a child?

Trying to imagine having a reflection as a child was worse somehow, the ringing in his ears so severe that his vision blurred at the edges, a visual static thoroughly coloring his memories so that he couldn't make out any details. This must have been happening then, too, he concluded. 

One morning as he stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel to wrap around his hair, his eyes flicked upward for just a moment. In that moment, he saw the outline of his reflection beneath the steam, and his heart pounded. Curiosity bubbled in his stomach, the aching hole in his soul feeling desperately close to filling.

That's not me, he thought, only instead of with panic, there was something weirdly joyous about it. That's someone else! That's--! Awash with a sudden implacable grief, he reached out, fingers scraping along the wet glass. They were so close, if only he could just-- 

The pressure in his head was growing, and he wondered if the pain in his throat had anything to do with the screaming he heard. The voice was familiar, but it wasn't his, it was --

"Taako! Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

He blinked a few times, tears clouding his vision. Magnus was kneeling over him, and he could feel the dampness of the floor soaking through the towel around his body. "Magnus?" he whispered, voice hoarse. He cleared his throat; it hurt terribly. "I think I hit my head," he lied, hoping he could get away with not having to explain what had just happened.

"Uhh, really?" Magnus helped him sit up, looking over his shoulder and motioning for Merle to enter the bathroom as well. "We heard you screaming for, like, a whole minute."

Fuck. Taako looked down at his hands, covered in blood. That was when he noticed the glass shards on the floor around him. "Oh, shit," he murmured. The mirror had been shattered and if he had to guess based on the evidence, he'd have to assume it was his fault.

"Oh shit is right, kid," Merle said, frowning down at him. "You beat the hell out of that mirror bare-handed, AND hit your head on the way down? What happened?"

Guarding his destroyed hands against his chest, Taako curled against his knees. "I thought there was someone there," he admitted, knowing it wasn't the full truth but too distressed to divulge all the details.

The moment he said that, Magnus and Merle exchanged a serious glance. Magnus placed a hand on Taako's knee. "Someone as in, like, someone was watching you through the mirror? Was it a red robe?"

"Yeah, do we need to warn the Director?" Merle picked up a large shard of glass and was inspecting it with caution. 

"No, maybe, I don't know." Taako stubbornly refused to meet their eyes. He didn't want their concern. "Look, I'm sorry, I'll clean it all up, okay?" he lashed out, shoving Magnus' hand off of him.

Magnus looked hurt. "Taako, we're not mad, we're concerned. Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not fucking all right! That wasn't me!" It had lost the joy it held before, the black hole inside him deepening again. He was crying again, hands twisting into his hair to tug at the wet mess, ignoring Merle's cries that he stop before he embeds glass in his scalp. He felt hands tugging at his own as he drowned in the static, losing all sensation.

xxxxxxxxx

The next time Taako opened his eyes was in an infirmary bed, the unbearably bright white light above him causing him to groan as he blinked. 

"Hey! He's waking up!"

Magnus' voice? Taako sat up with a start, heart racing. He'd been in the bathroom, and then he'd collapsed on the floor. He looked down to see bandages around his hands. 

"Taako, thank goodness you're all right, what happened?" It was the Director, walking briskly to his bedside, her tired eyes looking at him with a mixture of fear and something else he couldn't quite place.

He opened his mouth several times to speak and found himself unable to. It had been years since he'd had a meltdown that severe. "I dunno," he finally said, shrugging and looking away. His heart hurt with each beat. "I thought I saw someone."

The Director nodded. "That's what Magnus and Merle had said as well. Taako, it's very important that you try to remember who you saw. Our base is heavily warded, but if someone or something slipped through and is spying on us--"

"It's not like that," he admitted, weary in his bones. "I don't wanna talk about it." He hugged his knees to his chest, avoiding looking at the three of them. "Just go away."

He heard Merle mutter something to them about giving him space, letting him wake up a bit before asking again. At least that bought him time to come up with a cover story. The last thing he wanted was his weird phobia creating a widespread panic amongst his coworkers. There was no spy, he wanted to scream. It was just me, he thought.

And yet that same distant part of him protested with each shaking breath, That's not me, that's not me, that's not me.

If not me, he thought, then who?

**Author's Note:**

> did it hurt? I need to know


End file.
